Entry 3 ~ Anniversary Series

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It’s been a few days since my last entry, and each one of those days is filled with weighted memories, but I needed some time, the last entry knocked the wind out of me.

Physically, emotionally and mentally.

I think the concept of how much our emotional pain affects our ability to function as a whole, is so often overlooked and under played.

Allowing myself to really feel through the emotions of that day, left me wanting to sleep for days. I probably should have, but instead I dragged my tired self through the days in a haze.

I convinced myself more than once, that I wasn’t going to do it again. Why would I put myself through feeling that, when it seems so much easier and less draining to just bury it.

Well, the haze has somewhat passed and the reality of what burying it does set in again, so here I am.

_______________________________________________

March 1 – March 5, 2009

The plane did land and a sea of heartbroken faces welcomed me.

I have since walked through those same doors at the airport a handful of times, and that image never fails to greet me there.

A sense of reality set in as I saw the gut wrenching pain in the eyes of each of my siblings.

I didn’t go home to make funeral plans for my momma and the sweet littles. No, not long after getting off that plane, I was sitting in a small cold room in front of a computer screen, with images flashing before me.

Words like grey matter, stroke, non-responsive, major damage, vegetable state and life support were all thrown at me like a knife to my heart.

‘You’ll need to make a decision soon’ ended that meeting.

I was so numb at that point, I can’t even put it into words; a state I am not sure the English language can depict.

I was still finding it hard to swallow through the fact that momma, Johnny, Neta and Tony were gone, and now I was supposed to think of ‘making a decision.’

They gave us a few more days. We needed to get home for the funeral of the other 4.

___________________

March 5, 2009

The funeral. Gosh I dislike funerals…. So, so, so much.

I grew up in a culture that believed in open caskets. Frick, I kid you not, I have seen everything under the blinking sun….. I won’t even get started on how I feel about viewings.

I saw momma for the first time at the funeral home, before the viewing.

Goodness I miss her. Hurts so bad.

I wish I could look back on that day and think, “we celebrated them well,” but that’s not the reality of funerals in that culture.

All the details of that day are not for me to share, for respect of others involved, but I can tell you this; according to my psychologist, a lot of my pain is not from the loss itself, but from the words spoken to me in that loss.

My heart remembers nothing but cold, gruesome, stark facts about that day.

After our final goodbyes, the dirt starting hitting the caskets and the wailing echoed far into the distance.

A piece of my heart was buried that day. Momma’s got it with her in heaven.

I picture the kids sitting on grandma’s lap, having some chocolate covered cookies. Sharing a few with Jesus of course.

I wish this was the end and rest awaited us in the following days. That was not the case.

 

Until next time,

Eva

 

P.S. For those of you that don’t know about my background. When the time is right I hope to write about what life was like growing up in ‘that culture.’ For now, this is all consuming.

 

 

 

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10 thoughts on “Entry 3 ~ Anniversary Series

  1. I read this just before falling asleep last night. Now, awake before sunrise, I wanted to read this again.

    This: “a lot of my pain is not from the loss itself, but from the words spoken to me in that loss.” Oh.. yes.

    In March 1977, my then husband absconded with my two year old daughter and five year old son. He took them out of the country and told them I was dead. I did not get them back until November 18, 1979.

    Prior to taking my children, in an amphetamine fueled rage, my then-husband tried to break my neck with his bare hands. The injury he gave me, with all but the top two discs in my neck badly herniated, still causes pain to this day. So… believe me when I say that he did not take my children out of love and concern for their well being.

    The agony of not knowing where my babies were, how they were, or if I would ever see them again, was unbearable. Beyond unbearable. That pain nearly drove me to suicide. It drove me to my knees, drove to church, and drove me to the Lord, where I learned that the greatest peace and joy could coexist with the deepest turmoil and sorrow.

    But…. “a lot of my pain (was) not from the loss itself, but from the words spoken to me in that loss.”

    • Linda you sweet, sweet soul. I am so sorry for the pain you have endured. I pray that God is ever gentle with you as you live life trying to heal and strive for wholeness. It is an honor to get a glimpse into your pain, thank you! May deep, deep peace be with you. ❤

      • Oh Eva, thank you for your gracious and very loving response. I wrote that second comment when I was barely awake this morning. After I was more fully awake, I was sorry for writing it here, because this is about you, this is about your terrible sorrow, this is about your healing. If I could remove my comment, I would have done so hours ago.

        I already know you are going to tell me that no, this is fine. You are lovely like that. And I’m sure you will even mean it. But even so, I regret leaving my second comment here. My only excuse, besides not being fully awake, is that my children’s abduction, which happened nearly forty years ago, is very fresh on my mind these days because my daughter — one of my two children who was abducted so long ago — is now going through the same nightmare. Her ex husband has taken their son, my grandson. I have spent most of the day writing a post about it, which I have now published on my blog.That is where i should have written it in the first place, not here!

        But… yes… the words that some people say when we are in unbearable, heartbreaking agony…. often well-meaning, sometimes not, but oh, so ignorant. Some of those words can maim and kill. When I was driven to my knees, driven to church, driven to church — and I am very glad of that! — there I was told things like “You should be happy, because God would not have allowed your ex husband to take your children unless they would be better off with him,” and “Why are you still crying about this? Where is your faith in Jesus?” …and so on and so on.

        But Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb. His anguish on the Mount of Olives the night before His crucifixion caused him to sweat drops of blood. The scriptures tell us to weep with those who weep.

        I wonder why that is so hard for so many Christians?

    • Reply to your reply 😉 I’m just so glad you are getting it out there and not keeping it in. However and where ever that may be. My heart breaks for you and what your journey has/continues to be. All my love to you!!

  2. About the hurtful words again, were you ever told the one about how you shouldn’t be unhappy, because someone else somewhere on this great big planet has it worse than you? Although, I really cannot imagine anyone saying that in your case, it doesn’t get much worse than losing your parents, your brother, and three other members of your family all at once. But the reason I ask is because I have been told that, and I know that many other hurting people are told that, as well. “The man with no shoes complained and moaned, until he saw the man with no feet.”

    Well, I recently saw a graphic on someone’s blog that said: “Telling you not to be sad because other people have it worse than you, is just like telling you not to be happy because other people have it better.”

    Isn’t that good!?! 🙂 ❤

  3. Oh, sweet friend. There are no words. What I really can’t believe is that we met in 2010. Just barely a year later. Somehow when you shared what you were able to at Spring Adventure that year it seemed like it had happened longer ago. Sigh… I also can’t believe, that I met you both that week and we haven’t seen each other since then – because I feel like our hearts have been through so much together – though so far away from each other – in the last years that it’s hard to believe our friendship, though it’s really a sister-ship, has basically always been long distance. 🙂
    Carry on, friend. As God gives you the grace and strength and carries you through the memories may you know his mercy and find Him in the middle of the pain. But do be kind to yourself as you go through this grueling, exhausting work, ok? I’m pretty sure it’s even physically sort of like running an ultra-marathon. Sending you an enormous abrazote.

    • Isn’t it crazy?! I can’t wrap my mind around how shortly after that was and that I haven’t seen you since then but yet I feel like you have walked so closely with us and vice versa. I still think of you guys so often. You are dear to my heart!!
      An ultra-marathon – that sums up exactly how I’ve been feeling…. Thanks for putting it into words.
      Otro abrazo para ti!!!

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